To: Mrs. Don-o
Ooh! Seriously, I’m blushing from praise from you.
To: miss marmelstein
The other day, I was in Greenwich Village when I had time to kill. I went into Our Lady of Pompeii (still an Italian-language church) to say a prayer. After admiring its immigrant-built beauty and the music playing by the local pianist, I noticed the handwritten notice scotchtaped to the old-fashioned Confessional. It suggested that anyone in pain contact the priest in residence to come out and confess him. Something so sympathetic, so immediate, broke my not-so-tender heart.
FreeRepublic.com is powered by software copyright 2000-2008 John Robinson